


A Debt Repaid

by atlas_white



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Lots of Fluff in Fact, M/M, maxwil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlas_white/pseuds/atlas_white
Summary: Maxwell doesn't like feeling indebted to anyone, even Wilson. Accordingly, he asks the scientist what he can do to square things up between them, and is given an answer that he was not prepared for.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	A Debt Repaid

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the end of Maxwell's description from the in-game character pages.  
> "He doesn't like being in debt [to Wilson]."

"I never understood it."

  
The comment comes seemingly out of nowhere, hanging in the still air for a beat too long as Wilson turns around, startled out of private reverie as he works with his hands, absorbed in the slow, rhythmic work of weaving a fishing net. The silence he'd enjoyed is suddenly gone, pierced by the most melancholy thing he thinks he's ever heard Maxwell say. 

Yet, it's naught but a sentence fragment. It's come out of nowhere and it means nothing at all without context. There could be a thousand thousand things Maxwell doesn't understand. Wilson as well, even being a scientist so great and so clever as he is (maybe he understands even less, given that Maxwell once drew on Their knowledge and wisdom, and that he ruled over this world; there's no telling what he could be privy to that Wilson can't even imagine, as sickening a thought as that is). It's only this thing in particular, so sad, so frustrated. Like Maxwell has tried for a hundred years to puzzle out the answer only to fail every time.

Wilson puts down the incomplete net. It is no longer of any import.

"What's that?" he asks, accent autumn crisp. Turning to look properly at the magician, that former master of all things. His pale eyes catching afternoon light.

"Nothing, never mind," Maxwell grunts, which Wilson has found is typically his way of avoiding confronting whatever makes him uncomfortable. Feelings make him uncomfortable. The scientist thinks it's probably that. It's usually that.

"Come now, what did you not understand?" Wilson presses. "You understand all, do you not? What then can this weight be that's dragging you down?"

Maxwell tips back his chin proudly, crossing his arms. Irritated, he uses poise in place of an answer. It's not unexpected. But if he didn't want to talk about it at all, he wouldn't have brought it up in the first place. Easy enough to keep one's thoughts in one's head, especially within earshot of the one person who's bound to hear and ask questions.

Wilson accordingly rises to his feet, walks over to Maxwell. Attentive with his stormcloud eyes exceptionally clear. It was almost as though the magician were playing hard-to-get. Well. He knew all about that; he'd crossed over all of the Constant to satisfy hard-to-get.

"Should I guess?" he asks coyly. "Oh, there could be a thousand possibilites."

Maxwell sniffs. His chin is still raised but he's looking down at his scientist with appraising eyes, smoldering gold weighing him, making their judgement. At length he sighs, lip drawn back just enough to show the unnaturally sharpened teeth inside.

"Oh, Wilson, you just can't let well enough alone, can you?" he counters. Shakes his head. He turns to face Wilson properly and the atmosphere at once changes completely. There is something very grave on his mind. It comes with a certain anticipation which sticks thickly in the air, on his teeth.

"Very well. It's about that quest of yours. Freeing me from the Throne. I don't understand why you did it. I offered you food, resources to build with, shelter from the storm, but you refused it all. I can't offer you any more now, you know."

Wilson frowns slightly. Knit to his brow, lips pressed together just so. What's he to make of this? Ah, but he doesn't dare to interrupt. He merely shakes his head in acknowledgement. 

"So this is what puzzles me. I can't give you better than you've already declined. I don't like being in your debt, but I can't do any more to repay you." Pain seeps into Maxwell's voice, his confusion and his frustration bared. 

The frown on Wilson's face is replaced at once as the scientist's brows raise, and his lips part, and his eyes widen just so. He takes one of Maxwell's hands, the great black talons, between the both of his own. He breathes, chooses his words, not blind to the way that the magician glances curiously down at him. 

Nobody's done a thing for Maxwell they didn't want something back for, isn't that right? Debt has destroyed him once already. Darkness in his face, he looks like he wants to run away all over again, disengage from what he's started. But this is no longer an option. Now he is at Wilson's own mercy, and the positions are switched once more.

Wilson takes one of his hands away to put it on the older man's face, turning it just so to ensure he's looking straight at him. It feels natural, so he leaves it there even after he's gotten his way. He hates to see so much unhappiness in those eyes.

"You do not need to repay me," he says softly. "Oh, Max, how can I make you understand? I've tried to tell you, but I fear you expect the worst from everyone, even me. I freed you because it's what I _wanted to do_. You _deserved_ to be free."

Maxwell's jaw sets, like he's trying to keep it from dropping. He swallows. There's so much that goes through his head just then that he can't categorize it all, can't keep it all straight. It makes no sense. It makes more sense than anything in the world. Contradiction. His mind is a tangle like a drunken spider's web looping round and round itself. And he the spider, suspended upside-down in a trap of his own creation.

"You can't be serious," it's a breath, little more. He has to hold his eyes on Wilson to keep them from dropping. There's so much that he isn't saying that he tells the scientist in the simple way that he moves, the way that he struggles. 

"But I am," Wilson predictably insists. 

He's moving closer now, fearless, hand like porcelain reaching toward the magician. Touching pinstriped sleeve before it can move out of reach, establishing a connection. Then it's like he's just completed an electrical circuit that sends lightning flowing through their blood.

"You may think yourself a lost cause, but I see you differently," he goes on, "How many times have I tried to tell you? How much did I suffer to see you taken from the Throne? I didn't do that for any reward. I did that because I came to realize that you were a prisoner just the same as I."

"I was a King," Maxwell protests feebly. A straining in his web, nothing more.

"You told me yourself, They had dominion over you from the very start."

The magician (former King of Shadows, for all the good that's ever done him!), cannot argue that this is so. He is very still for some long moments as he mulls it over, the very nuance of his own reality. Of course They were the Ones that brought him here. They put him on the Throne, They commanded him to create and to breathe life back into the Constant; how much pain has been wrought all to sate Their hunger! 

He is ignorant to none of this! But to pretend to be so was the only defense he ever had. It was all that kept his head upright, dapper to a fault. It was all that kept the fear of him in his survivors, that which was _supposed_ to keep Wilson out of his domain but of course, as he has learned, there is no force, on Earth or beyond it, which can stop Wilson Percival Higgsbury.

It's what made him believe that Wilson could be the one to leave this place. It's what makes him think even still that there is a chance. 

Which has made it all the more confusing that he would risk, even sacrifice that chance all for him. He, who was Wilson's captor, who tempted him, who was meant to be feared by him. He, who has tried everything he could possibly think of to keep him away. 

Yet, even Maxwell's will could not overcome Wilson's. When he examines it now, deeply, he finds that perhaps this was really what he wanted all along.

"You are correct," he says softly, "But you were meant to think otherwise. I tried so hard to keep you from learning how They tormented me. I appeared to you as a monster, and I sent blizzards to stop you. But nothing would ever keep you from reaching me. Why? What made you realize that I was a prisoner? What makes you think I deserve your forgiveness, much less all you went through to free me? And why don't you want anything?" By the time he's finished speaking, his voice has grown harsher, almost pleading. He wants to understand. But oh, he doesn't. He doesn't at all.

Wilson squeezes Maxwell's arm. His free hand comes to rest in Maxwell's, in the palm of that large, dark hand with its claws that curl. God, there is so much love in those eyes of his.

"I came to understand in time," Wilson answers, "how your powers were limited; how you infuriated Them by interfering on my behalf when I was cut down by the Treeguard. How you couldn't leave, just like me. And when I understood that the door led to the Throne, well. I had to try. I had to free you."

He breathes in. It's so deliberate, so slow. It's like he is breathing in Maxwell's essence. Wrapping himself in the smell of him and filling himself with it.

"You must understand. There is one thing that I wanted. That I want still."

"Then name it!" Maxwell grasps Wilson's arms tight and he stares at him with wide eyes like those of some wild cat. There's a little bit of a shift to them, like he's changing by some minuscule fraction into that beast that he was in the Darkness. Breathing fast. Claws deep. "Please, don't tease me, Higgsbury -- tell me what it is!"

Wilson's smile then is so serene it's like a vision of Heaven.

"You." he finishes. "It always has been. You."

Such a cheeky answer! He could have toppled Maxwell with a feather. The magician stands staring with those wild eyes and his mouth just parted, just showing the glint of unnatural fangs. He's beautiful, he's wretched, he's human and he's more than human. The circuit between them remains unbroken.

"Me..." he echoes, but he doesn't get the chance to protest, hardly to take it in before Wilson has closed the gap in the middle of their circuit and his lips are alighting on Maxwell's with all the gentle grace of a bird. 

And suddenly words are no longer necessary. Suddenly there's just their two mouths meeting, saying it all for them. Maxwell tilting his head as he returns the kiss in kind, his fears melting in exchange for passion, the fervor and the gratitude and the love that he has for this incredible man.

How Wilson has fought for Maxwell! He has braved the trials of Hell and he's come through it all with a smile on his face. Leaning up to meet the magician now, giving him all the fire that saw him through the Constant's inner chambers from in his mouth that makes such unbreakable vows. Such incredible mouth! So sweet the taste. So pure its intentions.

Wilson's hands come to rest on Maxwell's chest, his eyes flutter closed. He moves his lips gently against the magician's. He parts them just so, bravely, his curious tongue adventurous as he, sliding out to ask entrance only kindly. And it's allowed in and met in similar fashion, the electricity sparkling in both men's veins at the contact when tongues do meet.

The scientist's breath hitches deliciously. He would see this kiss go on forever if only he could. He would stay in this moment, in this place. But the time does come that they should part, and they look at each other for some long moments afterward as though seeing each other for the very first time.

"To tell you the truth," Wilson whispers, opening his eyes to look back up at Maxwell once more, "Though I should have persevered even if I hadn't, I have loved you since first I heard your voice."

Again, his words leave the older man speechless. The kiss they've shared hangs lingering in the air. It's hot like their connection unbroken. There must be more. More that Maxwell can do to express all that he's feeling, all the emotion that rampages wild and unchecked in him. Some way that he can tell Wilson the extent of his admiration and appreciation when even words fail him. Some way that he can express in return the love that has been shown him, so unconditionally.

The love that he can barely understand and yet, he feels it himself as well. He loves Wilson, loves him with the whole of his being. Even so ghastly as he's been twisted to be. It can be no wonder he's been left at such a loss to understand why the younger man should go through so much for him, why he'd accept no reward. Perhaps this is what it means to love someone.

Then, he can perhaps accept that there is no need to repay Wilson, as he owes no debt.

He can kiss him a second time. This time moving his hands from his arms to his back to cradle him, to hold him so preciously as he deserves to be held, with all the love in his blackened heart. Still beating. Longing to be whole, and finding redemption in Wilson's arms, in his kiss, his smile, his forgiveness, his _love_. Love!

How can anybody love Maxwell?

How can _Wilson?_

Yet! There is his kiss returned! There is the sweet scientist melting into his embrace. There they are, the two of them with their full hearts, with their checkered pasts and their difficulties overcome. A new future lying ahead of them in spite of it all, here on the unholy ground of the Constant. And finally, he understands.

"Then I will repay you by granting you the one thing you want," Maxwell murmurs between kisses repeated.

"Oh?" A breath of Wilson's.

"I give you all of me. I shall adore you until the end of time, and then we shall be even."

Wilson wraps his arms round Maxwell's neck, loosely, tugging himself up to meet him again. Lips meeting uneven, on the corner of the mouth. A smile, so warm it could melt ice.

"Then that I will accept," he gives his answer against Maxwell's mouth, "And I will love you for all my days." This said, he moves to kiss him on the lips once more.


End file.
